Chapter 33

        Mark Bellmen raked a frustrated hand through his hair until it stood straight up like short, spiky soldiers at attention. It was late on Friday afternoon and he was alone in the Squad Room at Division Headquarters. The amount of sleep he'd gotten since Sunday didn't total more than twenty hours. And now this. He didn't need this on top of everything else.

        "Dammit," he muttered as he read the report in front of him. "I'll get this goddamn prick if it's the last thing I do."

        "Are you taking Lieutenant Selinski's name in vain again there, Mark, old pal?"

        Bellmen looked up as Troy Anders entered the Squad Room. He watched the young man cross to the coffee pot, pick up the mug that read 'Book Him Danno' and pour himself a cup of steaming liquid.

        Eight battered desks were crammed in a room built for half that amount. Troy squeezed between two and moved Mark's in-basket aside so he could perch on one corner of the veteran detective's work space.

        "No, Troy Boy, for a change I'm not cussing out the Lieu," Mark said, his demeanor much more relaxed and unpolished within the confines of the squad room. "I'm cussing out the nameless scumbag I keep seeing in my dreams who tried to snatch Tracy Nichols and Jennifer DeSoto and who put John Gage in the hospital."

        Mark tossed the report in Troy's lap. "Here. Read this. It just came over the wire from a town a hundred or so miles north of here called Bensonville."

        "I've been through there," Troy nodded as his eyes began scanning the paper. "Nice little city. I always thought it would be a good place to raise a family."

        "You might have a change of heart after you read that."

        Troy's pale brows knit with concentration as the words on the paper drew him in. He was everything Mark wasn't. Blond, blue-eyed, good looking in a Nordic sort of way, and still enthusiastic about a job that would eventually beat the optimism out of him. But Mark didn't try to quell that last quality. Troy was had been promoted to the Detective Division just six months earlier. He was only twenty-nine. It wouldn't take much more than two or three years, four tops, before Troy would learn that you had no more than a fifty/fifty chance of solving any case assigned you, and that you saw more ugliness in this job than any one person deserved to view up close and personal in a life time.

        Troy shook his head as he handed the report back to Mark.

        "That poor little girl."

        Mark nodded. Carrie Wrightman's body had been found the previous afternoon in a shallow grave forty miles north of Bensonville. She was naked save for the roller skates still on her feet. She'd been raped, sodomized, and then choked until her larynx was crushed and her neck snapped like twig.

        "You think it's your guy?" Troy asked.

        "The Feds do."

        "The Feds?"

        "Yeah. They got a man working with me. Agent by the name of Quinn Dailey."

        Troy snorted. "Quinn Dailey? Is that his real name, or one he assumed when he became a G-man?"

        "Don't know and didn't ask. He's the head of the Child Abduction and Sex Crimes Unit."

        "Geez. They sent out the big cheese for this, huh?"

        "Yep. He's been on the trail of a guy for ten years now whose M.O. fits the prick we're after. Dailey wants him and wants him bad."

        "What's he know about him? About the perp I mean?"

        "Not much, other than he has a liking for little girls between the ages of eight and eleven. Recently his taste has been for blonds with blue eyes."

        "Just like Tracy and Jennifer."

        "Yeah, just like them. And like Carrie Wrightman."

        Bellmen leaned down and opened a lower desk drawer. He uncapped a bottle of Tums, shook two tablets into his hand, popped them in his mouth, then put the bottle back.

        Troy wrinkled his nose. "I don't know how you can stand those things."

        "When you've done this job as long as I have, kid, you'll know. Believe me, you'll know."

        Troy took note of his mentor's red eyes and drooping mustache. "Rough week, huh?"

        "Whenever a case of mine involves children, it's always a rough week. Not to mention the added fun this one has brought."

        "Our friendly reporter Brian Kessler," Troy easily guessed at the source of Mark's sour stomach.

"Oh, yeah. I needed that asshole and that stunt he pulled like I need a boil on my ass."

        "Mark, come on. What happened...the picture in the paper, the story...it's not your fault."

        "I'm glad you see it that way, Troy Boy, 'cause not too many other people do."

        "Selinski?"

        "Oh, yeah. He chewed my ass good 'cause Kessler managed to get by one of our boys in blue. One of our boys in blue who, by the way, will be walking the beat until the soles of his goddamn shoes are worn out. Not that I necessarily hold it against Selinski. You know what they say, shit rolls downhill. My ass got chewed because his ass had been chewed first."

        Mark held up his right hand. Fingers popped up in succession as he counted off one by one.

        "After Selinski, came the fire department brass. A Battalion Chief by the name of McConnikee threatened to have my balls wrapped in a fire hose. Rampart's administrator yelled at me for twenty minutes non-stop, conveniently forgetting it was one of his nurses who snuck Kessler into Gage's room to begin with. Then came Kelly Brackett. He's Gage's doctor. He tore me up one side and down the other for twenty more minutes. After that came Roy DeSoto. For a soft spoken guy he can have a quite a temper when someone lights his fire. Not that I blame him, you understand. I've got two daughters. It wasn't that many years ago they were nine. I know how the guy feels. This news story not only takes away his best friend's anonymity meaning we have no idea if his attacker might now try to finish the job he started, but it also means the guy could potentially be one step closer to discovering Jennifer's identity. Then, just when I think there's no one left to blame me for Brian Kessler's little foray into Gage's room, along comes Chad Gage, John's father. Christ, does that Indian have a temper. I thought the guy was gonna scalp me. But just like I can't blame DeSoto for his anger, I can't say as I blame Mr. Gage either. If John was my son I'd be furious over what happened. I mean, let's face it. John Gage saved his partner's daughter from certain death, and look how he's repaid. Some asshole sneaks into his hospital room and takes a picture of him half naked, and semi-conscious at best, that hits the front page of the Times. After everything he's been through Gage deserves two basic human rights, his dignity and his privacy. Thanks to Brian Kessler he doesn't even have those things."

        Mark let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair. He pushed his feet against the floor, rocking the old spring supported chair in a slow, steady rhythm that Troy doubted brought him any comfort.

        "Look, Mark, nothing that happened involving Kessler is your fault. You just happened to be the most convenient guy to blame when he managed to get past our guard."

        "Yeah, I suppose. But you know what really sucks about all this?"

        "What?"

        "That damn Kessler will probably win the frickin' Pulitzer Prize."

        "Yeah, probably so," Troy agreed. "And you're right, that sucks."

        The younger man drained the last of the coffee in his mug. He leaned backwards and set the mug on his desk.

        "Speaking of John Gage, how's he doing?"

        "Better. His condition finally stabilized on Wednesday night."

        "Have you gotten a chance to interview him yet?"

        "No. I talked to Brackett this morning. They still have Gage on the ventilator, though he thought John might come off it by tomorrow. Nonetheless, he wouldn't commit to a day when I can see Gage. I have a feeling Brackett's gonna make me wait until John's moved out of ICU."

        "When might that be?"

        "Beats me. I'm hoping DeSoto will know something more."

        "DeSoto?"

        "Yeah. Dailey and I are going to talk to him in the morning."

        "Why?"

        "To break the news about Carrie Wrightman. And so Dailey can tell him what we suspect."

        "What you suspect?"

        Mark stopped his rocking and sat forward in his chair. He picked up the
report that had been sent to him by the Bensonville Police Department.

        "That his best friend kept his little girl from falling into the hands of a serial killer."

___________________________________        

        At ten-fifteen on Saturday morning Roy was in his garage, oiling the chain on Chris's bike. He thought back to the previous weekend. He could hardly believe that just seven short days ago he was snuggled against his wife in bed, secure in the knowledge that his children were with his best friend, safe and happy and having the time of their lives.

        How quickly things can change for the worse. Roy leaned over the blue Schwinn bicycle. In my wildest dreams I would have never imagined a week ago that today Johnny would be in the ICU at Rampart while Joanne and I are thanking God every night because no harm came to our kids.

         Roy's thoughts faded when he heard a car pull into his driveway. He looked up, expecting to see Joanne. Instead, Mark Bellmen emerged from behind the wheel of the black Pontiac sedan. A man Roy didn't recognize climbed out the passenger side.

        The paramedic wiped his hands on a clean cloth as he stood to greet his visitors.

        "Morning, Roy," Bellmen greeted. "I hope you don't mind us dropping by without calling first."

        "No," Roy shook his head. "Not at all."

        Mark indicated to the man beside him. "This is Quinn Dailey. He's an agent with the FBI."

        Roy held his hand out to the man he guessed to be in his early forties. Quinn Dailey was the stereotypical FBI agent. The man stood six feet two inches tall, broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist. He had the chiseled features of a Greek god, capped by dark hair trimmed in a military cut and offset by eyes so blue they appeared to be purple.

        Agent Dailey shook Roy's hand.

        "Mr. DeSoto. It's nice to meet you."

        "It's nice to meet you, too. And call me Roy."

        Mark smiled at the bike that was turned upside down and resting on its handle bars against the concrete floor of the garage.

        "I see you've got a serious project going there."

        "Serious to my son. Though nothing more than a little minor bike repair to tell you the truth."

        "Can we interrupt your work for a few minutes? Quinn and I would like to talk to you."

        A few seconds passed as Roy waited for Mark to elaborate. When the detective gave Roy no clues as to what type of discussion an FBI agent wanted to have with him the paramedic nodded.

        "Sure. No problem. This can wait."

        Roy indicated to the door that would lead into the kitchen. "Let's go into the house. Can I offer either of you a cup of coffee?"

        "That sounds good," Mark said.

        "That would be fine," Quinn agreed. "Thank you."

        Roy led the way into the spotless kitchen. Not for the first time in fourteen years of marriage he was proud to have a wife who maintained a clean, well cared
for home.

        The paramedic indicated for the men to seat themselves at the table in the dining alcove. They looked out the patio doors while Roy put sugar and cream on the table, then poured three cups of coffee.

        "Nice deck," Mark complimented of the elaborate redwood deck that had two separate levels and a squared off area for the picnic table.

        "Thanks. Johnny helped me build it a few years ago. He helped me tear the wall out, too, in order to put the sliders in. Joanne and I really enjoy being able to linger at the table after dinner while still being able to see the kids playing in the back yard."

        "Speaking of Joanne, is she here?"

        Roy carried the cups of coffee to the table. His visitors nodded their thanks as Roy took a seat.

        "She should be home in a few minutes. She had to drop Jennifer off at a friend's house for a birthday party. From there she's taking Chris to his Boy Scout meeting."

        Mark was happy to hear the DeSoto children were out of the house. He didn't think either of them needed to be privy to what he and Quinn were here to discuss.

        "If you don't mind then, we'll wait for Joanne to return."

        Mark's words only further puzzled the paramedic.

        "Is this about the guy who tried to kidnap Jennifer? About the guy who hurt Johnny?"

        Mark and Quinn exchanged glances as if deciding who should answer Roy's questions.

        "Yes," Bellmen finally acknowledged. "That's what our visit is about."

        "Have you caught him?"

        "No. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I know Joanne will want to hear what we have to say so we'll wait until she joins us."

        Although Roy wanted answers now, he knew Mark was right. Joanne would want to hear first hand what he and Agent Dailey had to say.

        Mark leaned back in his chair and took a long swallow of coffee. God knew he was in bad need of the caffeine. He loosened his tie and undid the first button on his shirt collar. He eyes the paramedic's blue jeans and T-shirt with envy.

        What I wouldn't give to get outta this monkey suit and spend a Saturday fixing my little boy's bike. Only my little boy isn't little any more. He's twenty-three and I spent far too many Saturdays working when he was Chris DeSoto's age.

        "I talked to Doctor Brackett yesterday morning," Mark said while they waited for Joanne to arrive. "He said John's improved somewhat the past few days. He said something about being 'cautiously optimistic' about a full recovery. Whatever that means."

        "That's Doc Brackett's way of saying things are looking up, but at the same time we need to keep in mind Johnny has a lot to overcome."

        "In other words we shouldn't be turning cartwheels yet."

        "Exactly. Though the picture's getting brighter."

        "How so?"

        "I talked to Brackett about a half hour ago. He took Johnny off the ventilator this morning." Roy smiled while giving a thumbs up. "So far so good."

        "I'll be able to interview John soon then?"

        "I don't know. Brackett will be the one to decide when you get that opportunity."

        Mark gave a rueful grin. "I had a feeling that's what you'd say. Kelly Brackett appears to rule Rampart with an iron fist."

        "He's tough when he needs to be," Roy acknowledged. "And a bit on the gruff side now and again. But he's a helluva doctor. Johnny couldn't be in better hands."

        "I suppose that's all that counts."

        "To me it is."

        Before the conversation could continue Joanne entered from the garage. She was carrying her purse in one hand and a white bag from a local bakery in the other. She smiled at Mark Bellmen.

        "I was wondering whose car that was in the driveway."

        "Hi, Joanne," Mark greeted as he stood. The FBI agent followed suit. Mark indicated to the man with a nod of his head. "This is Quinn Dailey. He's an agent with the FBI's Child Abduction Unit."

        Joanne entered the dining area with right hand extended. "Agent Dailey. It's nice to meet you."

        "Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. DeSoto."

        Joanne walked back into the large, sunny kitchen. She opened a cabinet and pulled out four dessert plates, napkins, and a platter.

        "I see Roy has gotten coffee for you. Can I interest you gentlemen in some muffins or doughnuts?"

        "No, no," Mark shook his head. "We won't stay long. We didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast."

        "Oh, this isn't breakfast," Joanne replied as she filled the platter with the tempting treats. "We had that several hours ago. This is just a snack to enjoy along with a few minutes of peace and quiet now that the kids have been delivered to their appointed destinations."

        "Nonetheless, Quinn and I didn't mean to intrude."

        "Don't worry about it," Joanne assured with a smile. She sat the platter down in the center of the table, then passed out the plates and napkins. "There's plenty for everyone. Believe me, when Johnny Gage is your husband's partner you learn to buy twice as much of any food you plan on keeping in the house."

        Mark Bellmen took a chocolate doughnut off the platter Joanne pushed his way.

        "Gage is a big eater, huh?"

        Roy rolled his eyes. "We wonder where he puts it all while still managing to stay so skinny. But then he ping pongs around the station like Ricochet Rabbit on most days so I guess that explains how he burns off the excess calories."

        "My eight year old son is like that," Quinn Dailey said. He smiled his thanks at Joanne as he reached for a banana muffin. "Short of tying him to a chair my wife and I can't get him to sit still for more than thirty seconds at a time."

        "The guys and I have considered tying Johnny to a chair a time or two, but then we'd have to gag him as well or we'd never hear the end of it."

        "Sounds like the men of Station 51 make good comrades," Mark said in
light of the teasing tone behind Roy's words.

        "Yeah. Yeah, I guess we do. I've been with the fire department fourteen years now. This is the best group I've ever had the privilege of working with. We know we can rely on each other in a tight spot. They're a great buncha guys."

        Joanne poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to her husband. The small talk continued until everyone had consumed either a doughnut or a muffin. When the plates had been pushed aside, and everyone's cups refilled, the smile left Mark Bellmen's eyes. His casual posture became a thing of the past as he sat forward in his chair and leaned his arms on the table.

        "You're probably wondering why Agent Dailey and I dropped by this morning."

        Roy nodded while looking at Joanne. "We're a bit curious."

        "I don't know of any other way to tell you this other than by getting right to the point."

        "Tell us what?" Joanne asked.

        "On Monday of this week an eight year old girl by the name of Carrie Wrightman was kidnapped from a school yard in the city of Bensonville. Do you know where that is?"

        "I know the general area," Roy said. "It's about a hundred miles north of here, right?"

        "Yes. On Wednesday Carrie's body was found in a shallow grave in a thick stand of woods roughly forty miles beyond where she was taken."

        "Oh, Lord," Joanne whispered as her hand reached for Roy's. "Oh, Lord, no."

        Mark saw the look of understanding that passed between the DeSotos. When they turned their eyes to him he gave a reluctant nod.

        "We strongly suspect the man who killed the Wrightman girl is the same man who attempted to abduct Tracy Nichols and your Jennifer. A motel clerk identified him based on the sketch we sent up to the Bensonville PD. Unfortunately, he paid cash for the room and registered as John Doe."

        "And they accepted that?" Roy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "They let the guy register under John Doe?"

        Bellmen shrugged. "He paid cash, Roy. And the clerk had no reason to argue with the guy over the name he gave. Let's face it, a motel's staff sees all kinds of people pass through for a night or two for all kinds of reasons. If the patron doesn't cause any trouble they have no reason to ask him any questions. And certainly no reason to argue with him over the name he gives when he registers."

        Roy sighed. "I suppose not."

        Joanne looked from Bellmen to Dailey, anxiously waiting for one of the men to give them more information. When none was forthcoming she broke the
silence.

        "So are you after this guy? Do you have any idea where he is now?"

        "To answer your second question, Mrs. DeSoto, no. No, we don't have any idea where he is now. But to answer your first, yes, I'm after him. If he's who I think he is, I've been after him for the better part of ten years now."

        "And just who do you think he is?" Roy asked.

        "A guy the press dubbed as the Kankakee Killer over a decade ago. His MO,...mode of operation, seems to involve moving from state to state where he preys on little girls between the ages of eight and eleven. They're never younger than that, and never older. Lately, he seems obsessed with blond hair and blue eyes, though it hasn't always been that way."

        "And what do the little girls say about him?" Joanne asked. "What information have they given you over the years?"

         Dailey's eyes flicked to Mark before returning to settle on Roy and Joanne.
He cleared his throat in a way that indicated to Roy he was reluctant to answer Joanne's question.

         "As far as information goes, Mrs. DeSoto, the first information about the guy we've been able to get has come from Tracy Nichols and Jennifer. None of the other girls...none of the others lived more than four hours after their abductions."

         Joanne squeezed her eyes shut to keep her tears from falling. She felt Roy tighten his grip on her hand and knew his emotions must be similar to hers. That Jennifer was alive to go to a birthday party on this sunny April Saturday was only because John Gage fought so hard to protect her.

        Joanne opened her eyes and dabbed them with the corner of a napkin when Agent Dailey began speaking again.

        "I know this won't be easy for you to hear, but I want the information to come from me before you read it in the newspaper. Like all the girls this man has murdered, Carrie Wrightman was repeatedly raped and sodomized before being choked with so much force her neck was broken."

        Roy swallowed hard. It took him a moment to find his voice.

        "How...how can someone do that to a child?"

        "I wish I could answer that question, but I can't. We know this type of criminal has an array of psychological problems that revolve around their sexual performance and identity. Sometimes they come from an abusive background. Many of them grew up in homes where they were physically or sexually abused at very young ages. But then again, that's not always the case. I worked with someone a few years back who was fond of saying sexual serial killers who prey on children are the lowest of the low. The nuttiest of the nuts. The most insane of us all."

        "So this guy...John Doe...or whatever his name is...you think he's a serial killer?"

        "I don't think it, Roy, I know it. And if I'm correct then Carrie Wrightman was his twenty-seventh victim."

        Roy and Joanne sat in silence, absorbing the impact of what the FBI agent had just told them. When several minutes passed and neither of them spoke Mark Bellmen grew concerned.

        "Roy...Joanne? Are you both all right?"

        Roy gave a slow nod of his head while squeezing his wife's hand once more. "I was just thinking."

        "Thinking about what?"

        "If Johnny hadn't saved our daughter last Saturday we might very well be attending her funeral today. I'm...the relief I feel because that's not the case is almost too great to put into words. But at the same time...at the same time another set of parents now have to bury their little girl. I..."

        Overcome by emotion too painful to voice, Roy pushed his chair away from the table. He crossed to the patio doors and looked out at the deck. He recalled the three weekends he and Johnny had spent building it. Typical of the two of them, that time had included a lot of teasing, a few minor arguments, some 'shop' talk, but most of all just enjoying each other's company while they completed a project they'd conceived together in the squad one day. Roy didn't turn around when he heard Mark Bellmen's voice.

        "At some point John will have to be told about all this. I know we'll have to wait until Brackett gives the word, but..."

        "I'll tell him."

        "Pardon?"

        Roy turned.

        "When Doc Brackett says it's okay, I'll tell him. I don't him want to hear this from you or Agent Dailey. I know you have to talk to him. I know you have to question him about last weekend like you questioned me and my kids, but don't tell him about the Wrightman girl. He...for as carefree as my partner appears to be to the outside world, he's got a big heart. He feels things very deeply, even though more often than not he tries to cover that trait with a smart aleck remark or a bad joke. I know Johnny well enough to know he'll blame himself for this little girl's death."

        "Blame himself?" Bellmen questioned.

        "He'll think he could have done more. He'll get himself all worked up thinking of a hundred ways he could have stopped the guy from getting off that mountain last Sunday, no matter how many people tell him he couldn't have done anymore than he did. No matter how many people tell Johnny he did more...sacrificed more for my kids than most men would have, he won't listen because all he'll be doing is mentally beating himself up while asking himself what else he could have done."

        "Nothing," Mark said with firm conviction. "I know what happened up there. I know how hard he fought to keep that guy from taking Jennifer. I saw the knife wounds, and bruises, and welts, that cover most of his body. There was nothing else he could have done, Roy. Absolutely nothing."

        "No, there wasn't," Roy agreed. "But it will take John Gage a long time to come to peace with that fact. That's why he needs to hear this news from me. From his partner. From his friend."

        Roy turned to stare out the patio doors once again. ">From a man whose child he was able to save."

Chapter 34

        
        Johnny was moved to a regular room the following Wednesday morning. Most of the equipment he'd been hooked up to in ICU had been left behind. He was tired, weak, still running a fever, and in some pain, but at least he was off of the heavy sedatives that had kept him in a state of limbo and brought dreams he'd rather not partake in.

        John knew it was going to be a few days yet before Brackett would allow him the mobility necessary to go to the bathroom on his own or stand under a hot shower. He looked forward to both those small freedoms, and was grateful his father was here.

        At least Dad will be here to help me when I need it. I don't really want a nurse hanging onto my elbow the first time I'm allowed to stand up and take a leak. Not that I really want Dad to have to do that either, but it beats the alternative.

        For as much of a ladies man as John Gage was, he also possessed a large amount of pride and dignity. Being undressed by a woman you were about to make love to was quite different from being undressed by a woman who was about to give you a sponge bath.

        It had been Saturday before Johnny was cognizant enough to realize his family was really with him, as opposed to being visions from a dream. In some ways he'd been surprised by that fact, in other ways he hadn't. They'd never been told before when he was injured, but then in the past he'd never allowed it. This time he'd been hurt too severely to have any say-so in the matter. >From what he'd been told by Captain Stanley, almost from the moment Brackett stepped out of the OR he'd requested the Gage family be notified of Johnny's condition.

        Doc Brackett must not have held out a whole lot of hope that I'd pull through at that point.

        Johnny had to hand it to both his father and sister. Neither of them had yet to say a word about his ten year absence from their lives. Yes, there had been frequent phone calls back and forth once he got settled in L.A. and the pain of past events had receded somewhat, but he'd never gone back to Montana for a visit despite the many invitations his father had extended, and he'd never invited his family to his new home. Not even after he moved out of his small apartment and onto the ranch where he no longer had the excuse that he didn't have enough room to properly entertain guests.

        The only comment Gray Wolf had made about the ten years that had gone by was on Sunday. As he stood to leave the ICU after a short visit with Johnny, he bent and kissed the top of his grandson's head.

        "You have been gone a long time, Katori." When the old man straightened he touched his chest with his right hand. "But you have always remained here, within Pacachu's heart. And you always will. You have chosen the right path for yourself, John. After talking to your friends, the men you work with each day and the people here at this hospital who think so highly of you, I can see you're right where you need to be."

        Johnny's voice had been weak and hoarse when he replied, "Does my father see it?"

        "Yes, Katori, your father sees it. I suspect he has seen it for a long time. But you are his only son. He loves you very much. Do not fault him for wanting you by his side. This is the way it’s been amongst fathers and sons for many generations within our family. Within our tribe. Someday, when you have a son of your own, you will understand."

        John supposed he did understand somewhat. The enormity of a father's love is the only way Johnny could explain his dad's presence the previous afternoon when a detective named Mark Bellmen was allowed in the ICU by Kelly Brackett. Both Brackett and Johnny's dad stayed in the room while Bellmen questioned him. Johnny got the impression his father had been told of the detective's planned visit ahead of time so he could be with his son when the interview was conducted. John had to admit he appreciated his father's presence for reasons only the two of them would know.

        Johnny was forced to hide his smile as the questioning began. Kelly Brackett stood at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest while wearing a slight frown. Bellmen kept glancing at him. Johnny had known Brackett long enough to easily guess the doctor had told Mark Bellmen that the interview would end as soon as John grew tired, or if he got upset. Brackett watched over his patient like a faithful guard dog from the first question right up to the last.

        From what Johnny gathered, the story he told Detective Bellmen didn't differ from what Chris and Jennifer DeSoto had told him. The detective was curious about the two hours that passed while Jennifer and Chris hid in the Pow Wow Cave. Johnny's recollection of that time was vague at best. He dimly recalled fighting with his assailant.

        "I wanted to give the kids enough time to get away," he replied in a raw whisper because his throat was still inflamed from the after-effects of the now absent breathing tube. "I...I remember he finally got the best of me. I was on my back, with him straddling my stomach, and I saw the knife coming down. It was headed for my chest. Then I heard Joe growl. He came out of nowhere and knocked the guy off of me. What happened then I'm not sure. I think Joe was going after him pretty good, but I lost consciousness at that point." Johnny had turned to his father then. "Do you know what happened to my dog? Is he all right?"

        Chad nodded. "He's fine. He spent a few days at a vet's clinic. Like his master, he had a dislocated shoulder and had been knocked around a bit, but we picked him up on Friday. He's going to make a full recovery. He's at your ranch. We're taking care of him for you."

        "Good. Roy's kids would be upset if something happened to him. They gave him to me."

        "I know. Jennifer told us. She was disappointed Joe couldn't stay at her house, but as long as we're at the ranch he might as well be at his home."

        It was then that Mark Bellmen redirected Johnny's attention to him. The paramedic had felt like he could simply drift off to sleep in the middle of the man's questions, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open. He wanted to get this over with in one sitting, as opposed to going through it again in a few days.

        Johnny told the rest of his story that Tuesday afternoon, though how helpful he was he wasn't sure. Large chunks were missing from his memory that he attributed to being the times he was unconscious. He was able to identify the knife Bellmen held up that was found at the scene and now encased in a plastic bag.

        "Yeah, that's what he was using. A bowie knife."

        "How about this?" Mark asked when he held up a light blue knapsack. "We found this in a tree. Roy DeSoto said it didn't belong to either of his children, nor did he think it was yours."

        "It's not."

        "Have you ever seen it before?"

        "No."

        The next item Bellmen pulled out of his pocket was a white piece of paper that had been folded in the middle.

        "One more question, John, and then I'll let you get your rest." Bellmen turned the same police artist's sketch around that he'd shown to Roy DeSoto and his children. "Is this the man who attacked you and tried to abduct Jennifer?"

        It wasn't until hours later that Johnny realized how odd Mark Bellmen and Kelly Brackett must have found it when he zoned out just staring at that picture. How many times Brackett called his name he didn't know. In a dim way he was aware of the man beckoning him, and aware that his father's voice chimed in with Brackett's after a few seconds as well, but he couldn't force his mind back to the present. When he finally looked at his father he wasn't seeing Chad Gage as he was today, but rather as he'd looked ten years earlier.

        "It's Kent," Johnny whispered with wide, unfocused eyes. "It was Kent, Dad."

        Johnny heard Bellmen echo, "Kent?" in a voice that seemed excited, as though he'd just made some valuable discovery. Johnny saw his father shake his head at the detective, then watched as his dad stood and leaned over his bed.

        "John, that's not Kent. That's in the past, son. Long in the past. Look again, John. Look at the picture. That man doesn't resemble Kent at all. Not in the slightest." Johnny felt his father gently turn his head until his eyes were forced to focus on the pencil drawing. "John, look. That's not Kent."

        Johnny knew Doctor Brackett had edged closer to the bed. Later he'd realize the poor guy probably thought his star patient was flipping out on him. He heard his father urge him again to look at the picture. He did as his dad ordered. He stared at the photo a long time, then shook his head against his pillows.

        "That's not him."

        "This isn't the man who stabbed you?" Bellmen asked.

        "That's not Kent."

        "We know that, John," Johnny's dad intervened before Detective Bellmen
grew any more confused. "But is this the man who stabbed you and tried to take Jennifer?"

        "Jessie?"

        "No, son, not Jessie. Jennifer. Jennifer DeSoto. Roy's daughter. Is this the man who tried to take her?"

        Johnny blinked a couple times, then stared at the picture again, this time seeing the face in a whole new light. "Uh...yeah. Yeah. That's him. That's the guy."

        Whatever confusion Johnny's comments caused his father handled. The paramedic's eyes closed as conversation buzzed around him. He ignored the men as he sank deeper into his pillows and allowed sleep to claim him. He heard Doctor Brackett tell the detective it was time for him to leave. Later, he thought he heard his father talking with Brackett, and thought he caught the words 'Kimberly' and 'our little Jessie', but whatever sedative Brackett was still giving him was strong and he really didn't care what the two men discussed just as long as they didn't expect him to participate in their little talk.

        When Kelly Brackett had made rounds this morning John thought his smile held a tenderness that wasn't normal for him. When Brackett squeezed his blanket covered foot as he approached the head of the bed Johnny scowled.

        "I can take a pretty good guess regarding what my father told you yesterday after Detective Bellmen left, but I don't want your pity. Or anyone else's. And I hope the conversation the two of you had goes no farther."

        Johnny expected Brackett to be hurt by his words considering how long they'd known one another, or maybe rebuke him for them by pointing out he was Johnny's physician and therefore had the right to know about any private matters that might adversely affect his recovery, but instead all the doctor said was, "You've never even told Roy?"

        "No."

        "Why not?"

        "I...I just haven't. It was a long time ago. It happened before we knew one another. There's no point in discussing it."

        Brackett's, "I see," sounded doubtful, and as if he had a lot more he'd like to say on the subject, but he respected John's wishes. Thirty minutes later Johnny was headed to a private room on the third floor.

        Though Johnny wouldn't admit it to anyone else, he was beat. His family had visited this afternoon, as had the guys from A-shift who had gone off another rotation at eight that morning, followed by Dixie at the end of her own shift. He'd eaten just enough supper to keep the nurses happy, and was now reclining against his pillows drifting off to sleep. He still had an IV in his right hand, and still possessed his sling, his cast, and more bandages than he could count. He was also still resting on his left side, with the ever present pillows behind him. His bed was raised to a forty-five degree angle now, though, which at least made him feel like he was somewhat participating in the world around him. He had a television in this room, too, though he'd been told it was broken so hadn't bothered to aim the remote at it and turn it on. A nurse had promised him a new TV first thing in the morning. Not that it really mattered. He was too tired tonight to even consider watching the thing.

        Johnny wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he heard the door open. He would have ignored his visitor and allowed himself to be lured back to senseless slumber had he not recognized the voice that whispered, "I think Uncle Johnny's sleeping, Dad."

        Johnny pried his eyes open to find Chris and Roy standing at the foot of his bed. He hadn't seen the eleven year old since Chris took off down the mountain on Cody ten days earlier. He gave the boy the best smile he could muster.

        "Hi, Sport."

        Roy didn't know if it was the weak tone that now passed for Johnny's voice that caused Chris's reaction, or the pale face that was showing signs of both fever and weight loss, or the sling, bandages, and cast that spoke of his many injuries, or simply the memories that flooded the eleven year old's mind as he looked at the man he was now bound together with by a near-tragic incident no one else, save for Jennifer, could really ever be a part of.

        Whatever it was, tears started running down Chris's face as he approached the bed. Roy wasn't sure if he should let Chris stay or take him from the room when the silent tears changed to sobs. He didn't want either Chris or Johnny to get upset, but before he could make a decision Chris buried his head in the space between Johnny's left arm and his chest. Roy was touched by his son's gentleness as the boy laid his right arm across John's stomach, right under his sling, in the best form of a hug he could manage considering Johnny's injuries.

        Johnny seemed to understand exactly what Chris needed from him. He resisted the urge to wince in pain as he moved his right arm forward enough so he could run his fingers through Chris's hair.

        "Don't cry, Christopher Roy. Don't cry."

        Chris's words were muffled by the mattress, but both Roy and Johnny were able to decipher them.

        "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I disobeyed. I know you didn't want me to ride Cody. But I had to get my dad. I hope you understand."

        "I do, Chris. Don't worry, I do."

        "But if you still want to tan my hide like you said, that's okay. I mean,...I know I have it coming 'cause me and Jen were supposed to listen to you and do exactly what you said."

        Johnny couldn't move his hand enough to cup his fingers under Chris's chin and force him to lift his head, so instead he made a verbal request of the boy.

        "Chris, look at me. Please. Come on, lift your head and look at me."

        For a few seconds Roy didn't think Chris was going to do as Johnny asked of him, but then he saw his son's head come up from the mattress. Johnny rewarded Chris with that familiar Gage grin.

        "Now let me ask you this. Do I really look like I'm in any condition to be tanning your hide?"

        Despite the tears still running down his face Chris couldn't help but laugh.

        "No."

        "No," Johnny echoed. "I don't think so. I'm not in any condition to do much more than what I am right now, which is lay here and watch the world go by. But thanks to you, Sport, I'm still around to do just that." John lifted his cast and wrapped his fingers around Chris's forearm. "You made the right decision, Chris. I might not have liked it at the time, and there were many reasons why your decision caused me a lot of worry, but you did what you had to do. I can't fault you for that."

        "So you'll take me camping again?"

        "You bet. Only it might be a while before we can go. I've got a feeling Doctor Brackett's going to be restricting my activity for a couple months to come."

        "That's okay. I can wait."

        Chris beamed from ear to ear as he carefully hugged Johnny once more. John didn't mean to doze off on the boy, but his body wouldn't allow him to stay awake. He was vaguely aware of Jennifer giving him a kiss on the forehead while rambling on about Gray Wolf visiting her classroom, and then somehow managed to open his eyes for his first visit from Joanne since he'd been brought to Rampart. Like Chris, she cried as she hugged him.

        "Geez," he murmured in a voice wrought with sleep, "you DeSotos sure are a weepy bunch. Roy's gonna have to help me change this hospital gown if there's any more of you waiting out in the hall to cry all over me."

        "Oh, you and your teasing," Joanne scolded with a smile. She grew serious as she grasped the fingers poking out of his cast. "Thank you, Johnny. Thank you for what you did for Jennifer. Roy and I...well, there's no way we can ever repay you."

        "I don't expect you to. Or want you to try. You know I love those kids like they're my own. And you and Roy...you're my best friends, Jo. I couldn't have faced either one of you if I had been forced to come off that mountain without Christopher Roy and Jenny Bean."

        "Don't say that. No matter what might have happened, Roy and I would have known without a doubt that you did the very best you could. That you gave all you had to try to save our children."

        "It would have never been enough for me if the kids didn't come back safe and sound. Never."

        Joanne shook her head at the inert man. "You're one stubborn man, John Roderick Gage." She bent and kissed the same spot on his forehead that Jennifer's lips had touched a few minutes earlier. "And we wouldn't have you any other way. We'll leave you alone now so you can sleep."

        Johnny tried to say good night to his visitors, but couldn't stay awake long enough to accomplish that seemingly small task. He thought he heard Roy say he'd see him tomorrow, and for the first time realized he hadn't held a private conversation of any length with Roy since he'd arrived here. Maybe tomorrow they'd finally get a few minutes to themselves without nurses, or doctors, or Johnny's family, or some fireman, in the room with them.

        And unbeknownst to Johnny, that's exactly what Roy was making certain of as he stopped by Doctor Brackett's office on his way out of the hospital that night.
        
        

Chapter 35

        
        Johnny was surprised to see Roy at ten o'clock on Thursday morning. He knew his partner was now off-duty until Saturday, but hadn't expected him to drop by until visiting hours started at two that afternoon.

        "Better watch it," Johnny rasped. "There's a couple nurses on this floor who aren't as willing to bend the rules for wayward paramedics like Dixie is."

        "I've got permission from Brackett to be here. Besides, when have you ever been worried about following rules?"

        "I'm not. But you are. So like usual, Pally, I'm protecting your reputation while at the same time willing to sacrifice my own."

        Roy arched an eyebrow as he pulled a chair next to Johnny's bed. "As usual, huh? I think Brackett's got you over-medicated, Junior. Your memory isn't so sharp these days."

        My memory is better than you give it credit for, Roy. But that's another story.

        Roy wasn't sure what caused the smile to leave Johnny's face. He waited a few seconds, and when it didn't return he broke the sudden silence that had filled the room.

        "Your voice still sounds pretty raw. How's your throat feel?"

        "Pretty raw."

        Roy smiled at the quip.

        That's better.

        "Running a temp?"

        "Yeah. Around one-hundred. Or so the nurse said a little while ago. They've got me on some new antibiotic Brackett is promising will be the miracle drug that will have me dancing with your wife at the Firemen's Ball on Saturday night."

        "I doubt that," Roy laughed. "I hate to break the news to you, but I think you're going to miss this year's ball."

        "Doesn't matter. I didn't have a date anyway."

        "You would have found one in that little black book you keep. Though the term 'little' hardly does it justice."

        Johnny grinned at the teasing. "You could have bet money on that."

        The small talk quickly faded. Roy could tell Johnny was wondering what brought him here at this time of the morning. He didn't have long to wait before his partner asked.

        "Is everything okay? I mean with Joanne and the kids?"

        "Sure. Everything's fine. You just saw them last night."

        "I know. But a lot can happen in a few short hours."

        Don't I know it, Junior. Don't I know it.

        "Well, nothing has happened, so quit worrying." Roy shifted in his chair so he was sitting up straight.

        "Listen, Johnny, the reason I came by is so I can talk to you about a few things."

        "What things?"

        Roy flicked a thumb toward the television set. "The TV for one thing."

        "What about the TV?"

        "It's...uh...it's not broken."

        "Sure it is. A nurse told me it was when they moved me in here yesterday. They're supposed to get me a new one today."

        "No, they told you that because we didn't want you watching it."

        "Whose we? And why would 'we' care whether or not I watch TV? I'm a little old to need someone to police my viewing habits, wouldn't you say?"

        Roy had known no part of this conversation was going to be easy. If Johnny was able, he'd be sitting up on that bed with his arms crossed looking as indignant as he was looking now while forced to remain on his side.

        "We is me, and your family, and Doc Brackett. And the reason we care is because I need to talk to you about some things before you see them on the news, or read about them in the paper."

        "Oh. So that's why no one's shown up with the newspaper I asked a nurse for a few hours ago."

        "Yeah. That's why."

        "What's going on?"

        "Several things. Let me start with the first one."

        "Sounds like a logical place to me, even though I haven't the faintest idea what the hell you're trying to tell me."

        Roy shot his partner a look that said, "Cool it, Junior. You're making this a lot harder on me than it already is."

        "John..."

        Roy's use of the name John, as opposed to Johnny, and the hesitation that followed it told the dark headed man whatever discussion was about to take place was going to be painful for both of them.

        "What's wrong?" Johnny could feel his stomach twisting in knots. "If McConnikee is gonna break us up...transfer me because I'm gonna be off my feet for a while, I wanna talk to him right now. I'm sure Cap will talk to him, too. Unless you...unless you asked to have me transferred. I mean...if you don't wanna work with me anymore because of what happened I...I understand. I know it was my job to keep the kids safe and...even though they weren't hurt physically, I know they went through a lot...and...well...if you..."

        Roy couldn't stand to see the hurt in those brown eyes that made his partner look like a ten year old boy who was about to lose his best friend.

        "Johnny, no. No. No one's gonna have you transferred anywhere. Not McConnikee, and certainly not me. And can this nonsense about me not wanting to work with you! For Christ sake what more could I have asked you to do for my daughter? You let that guy stab you so she and Chris could get away. You let that guy beat you with a goddamn billy club while you hid Jennifer beneath your body! Are you nuts?" Roy jumped from his chair. "Me not want to work with you? Have you lost your mind? What would even make you think such a thing?"

        John refused to meet Roy's eyes. The blond man had to strain to hear his partner's reply.

        "When you're on a mountain waiting to die while at the same time praying you have enough strength left to save your best friend's child if need be, a lot of thoughts run through your mind. You remember a lot of times when you triumphed over adversity, but you,.....well, you remember a few times when you failed as well."

        "I see," Roy agreed quietly, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had arrived. When Johnny offered no more he said, "Look, I'm sorry I got so upset. It's just that I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Like Joanne told you last night, even if the camping trip would have had a different outcome...one more tragic than what already has occurred, we wouldn't have blamed you, John. Not for one second would I have not known you didn't do your best by me and my kids."

        Again, Johnny didn't say anything. As Roy looked at his friend's pale face he wished this discussion didn't have to go any farther. However; he knew he had no choice but to finish what he started. Eventually Johnny would get access to a newspaper or the TV, and then he'd hear what they'd been keeping from him.

        "John, as much as I hate to do this right now, I need to talk to you about why I stopped by this morning. Are you okay? Are up for that?"

        Johnny nodded his head against the pillow, finally making eye contact with Roy once again.

        "Yeah. Go ahead. Sorry for interrupting. And I'll quit jumping to conclusions."

Roy smiled. "That would be helpful."

        The blond man remained standing next to his partner's bed as he began to relay the purpose of his visit.

        "First of all, you know that the guy who stabbed you got away, right?"

        "Yeah. Bellmen told me that."

        "Okay. So, with the guy on the run the cops and the FBI have sent that sketch you saw to every police department all up and down the West coast, and to every state as far east as Kansas. But because he's on the run there's been some concern for your safety ever since you were brought here. There was a cop posted outside the ICU while you were there, and now there's one posted outside your door."

        If Johnny was upset by this news he didn't show it. "The guy doesn't know my name."

        "No, he probably didn't."

        "Didn't?"

        "Look, from the very start Bellmen told me the likelihood that one of these guys ever comes back to the scene of the crime is very rare."

        "So that's good news, right?"

        "Yes, it is. Especially since..." Roy wasn't sure how to break this next part to his partner.

        Johnny winced as he sat up straighter against his pillows. "Since what, Roy?"

        "Since a reporter by the name of Brian Kessler managed to sneak into your room in the ICU and snap your picture. It was on the front page of the paper, along with your name and a story about what happened. Your dad's got a copy of it. He'll show it to you this afternoon if you wanna see it."

        Johnny didn't immediately make a response as he absorbed all this information. Finally, he nodded his head.

        "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna see it. That bastard...Kessler did you say his name was?"

        Roy nodded.

        "That bastard Kessler didn't put Jenny's name in the article, did he? Or yours?"

        "No. He just said you'd taken the children of a 'friend' camping for the weekend."

        "Good."

        "Bellmen doesn't think there's anything to worry about," Roy assured again.

        "I'm not worried. Or at least not for myself. As long as the guy...the guy from the mountain I mean, can't track down Jennifer, that's all I care about." Johnny gave a sarcastic snort. "Besides, what else can he do to me that he hasn't already done?"

        Roy had to bite his tongue to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind.

        Kill you.

        Before Roy could speak again Johnny asked him another series of questions.

        "Do they have any leads? Has that sketch I saw helped? It looked just like him. Do they have any idea who he is?"

        Roy groped behind him until he found the arm of the chair he'd vacated. He pulled the chair as close to the bed as he could and sat down. He hesitated again before restarting the conversation.

        "Yeah, John, they've got a few leads."

        "I wish you'd quit doing that."

        "Doing what?"

        "Calling me John. You never call me John unless you're pissed at me or you're gonna tell me something I don't wanna hear."

        "Well, I'm not pissed at you," Roy assured with a small smile, "but as for the latter...yeah, I have to tell you something you're not gonna want to hear. Not anymore than I wanted to hear it when Bellmen and an FBI agent by the name of Quinn Dailey showed up at my house on Saturday morning."

        "What'd they tell you?"

        "Another....," Roy paused and swallowed hard before continuing. "Another little girl by the name of Carrie Wrightman was kidnapped a week ago Monday from a school yard in Bensonville. Her body was found last Wednesday in a shallow grave forty miles north of there."

        Johnny closed his eyes. Roy got the impression his partner thought if he couldn't see him, then maybe he wouldn't hear the rest of what Roy had to say. Unfortunately it didn't work that way, and now that he'd come this far Roy knew he had to finish for both their sakes.

        "Agent Dailey is on the case because he suspects this is a guy he's been after for the last ten years. Twenty-seven girls from twenty different states have gone missing, or been found murdered. They all of them match the same general description. Between the ages of eight and eleven, and lately all with blond hair and blue eyes."

        "Like Jenny," John acknowledged while opening his eyes.

        "Like Jenny," Roy agreed.

        "How...how did she die? Carrie Wrightman. What did he do to her?"

        "It doesn't matter, Johnny. It--,"

        "Yes, it does matter. It matters to me. It matters to her parents. Tell me what he did."

        "John..."

        "Okay, don't tell me. I'll just hear it on the news or read it in the paper. That's why the TV is supposedly broken, isn't it? And why the nurse never sent a volunteer up here with a paper."

        "That's why. Brackett didn't want you told until you were stronger. Your dad and Reah were going to talk to you, but I asked them if I could. I thought,...well, we've been friends a long time. I thought maybe it would be easier if you heard it from me."

        "So tell me the rest of it. How did she die?"

        Gage, you are the most persistent, stubborn mule when you set your mind on something. You know her death wasn't easy. And far from pretty as well. Can't you just leave it at that?

        "Roy?"

        The blond man heaved a sigh. Deep down he knew Johnny was right. If he didn't hear the details about Carrie's death now, he'd just hear them later on the six o'clock news. Roy had to admit to himself the last thing he wanted was for Johnny to be alone when the rest of the story was revealed.

        "She...she was raped, Johnny. Repeatedly. And sodomized with things the Medical Examiner can only guess at. Then she was choked so hard her larynx was crushed. Her cause of death was from a broken neck."

        Johnny's eyes took on a vacant look as he stared at the wall across the room. He thought of the powerful man he'd struggled with, and pictured those huge hands wrapped around the slender throat of a delicate little girl.

        "That could have been Jenny."

        "Yes, it could have been. But thanks to you it wasn't."

        "I should have tried harder to stop him. I...if I had managed to fight with him a little longer maybe I could have..."

        "Don't, Johnny. Don't do this to yourself. Don't you dare do this to yourself. There's nothing, absolutely nothing, you could have done to prevent Carrie Wrightman's death. If you don't value my opinion on this then ask your father, or your sister, or Gray Wolf, or Brackett, or Dixie. Ask Mark Bellmen or Quinn Dailey. You couldn't have done anything more than you did. You damn near died from the injuries you received at that guy's hands. He's crazy, Johnny. A sexual serial killer who preys on little girls, as Agent Dailey phrased it. He won't be stopped until he's caught."

        "But I had that opportunity. I had my hands right on him and--"

        "No. No more. I won't listen to any more of this crap. If I have to tell you a thousand times over that you did the best you could, that you did more than a lot of people would have in order to keep Jennifer safe, then I will. But I won't sit here and listen to you blame yourself for something that isn't your fault. Do you understand, Junior?"

        It took a moment, but finally Johnny gave a tight nod of his head. He closed his eyes.

        "I'm kinda tired, Roy. I...I'd like to get some more sleep."

        Roy was well aware he was being dismissed. He thought about refusing to leave, but forced himself to respect Johnny's desire for privacy.

        "Okay, I'll head back home then. Your family's going to come by this afternoon. And probably some of the guys as well. I'll call you after supper. If you're not too worn out from your visitors Joanne and I will come up for a few minutes."

        Johnny nodded but never opened his eyes when he spoke. "Bring the kids."

        "You sure? I'm sure they can stay at the Stokers' for a couple hours."

        "No. I wanna see them. And tell Jen to bring Aggravation. Maybe we can play for a while."

        Roy thought Johnny was going to be exhausted long before it was time to play Aggravation, yet he understood his partner's need to be with Chris and Jennifer considering the news he'd just been told about a little girl named Carrie Wrightman.

        "Aggravation it is. I'll make sure to tell her."

        When Johnny heard Roy settle the chair back in a corner of the room he reached out his left hand.

        "Roy?"

        "Yeah?"

        When Roy got no response he walked over to the bed and took a hold of the fingers sticking out of the cast.

        "I'm still here, Johnny. You need something?"

        "No. Just wanted to say thanks."

        "For what?"

        "Being such a good friend. I...I know what you had to say about...about that little girl, was just as tough on you as it was on me."

        "You'd have done the same if our positions had been reversed."

        Johnny didn't make a response. Roy remained standing next to the bed until he was certain his partner had fallen asleep. He gave the fingers he was still grasping a light squeeze before resting Johnny's arm on the pillow once again.

        "You're a good friend, too, John Gage," the paramedic whispered. "A damn good friend. And don't you ever doubt that for a second."
        
        

Chapter 36

        

        John Gage sat in a chair at the small round table in his hospital room. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, while at the same time massaging his throbbing temples, two things he did a lot lately when no medical personnel could see him.

        The paramedic looked down at the newspaper that was now outdated by over two weeks. Carrie Wrightman smiled up at him from the black and white print. She so easily could have been Jennifer DeSoto. Or one hundred other nameless little girls who only wanted to enjoy their childhood and have the opportunity to grow up.

        An opportunity Carrie didn't get because I couldn't stop him. Because I couldn't keep the bastard from running off that night.

Johnny didn't bother to read the article that accompanied Carrie's picture. He'd long ago committed it to memory.

        The man sighed as he gazed out his hospital window. April had turned to early May since he'd arrived at Rampart. The often painful physical therapy he was forced to endure was helping his right arm and leg regain the strength and dexterity they'd possessed before his attack. The cast on his left arm was due to come off in two days which, no doubt, meant more painful therapy on a limb that would be stiff and weak due to its confinement. But those things were minor compared to the back problems he was experiencing. He'd been fighting an infection from those deeper stab wounds on and off for the past three weeks. Doctor Brackett's promise that the new antibiotic would do the trick in clearing up the infection had been repeated with several more antibiotics, until the doctor realized it was to his patient's benefit not to make anymore promises. Johnny's temperature was still bouncing anywhere between the normal ninety-eight point six and the not so normal one hundred and one. But that didn't worry the paramedic nearly as much as the spasms that would grip his back muscles without warning. His physical therapist kept assuring him that time and exercise would take care of that, but those assurances didn't keep Johnny from worrying about his future.

        A fireman who can't carry a victim from a burning building will be out of a job quicker than he can pull on his turn-out pants.

        Three days earlier Johnny's father and grandfather had flown back to Montana. Chad Gage's younger brother, Lucas, was taking care of his ranch for him, but the man worked a full-time job in town as well. That meant Chad couldn't expect Luke to offer his help indefinitely.

        Johnny thought back to their parting. His grandfather had been the first to hug him and say his good-byes.

        "Katori, do as your doctors say so you can soon return to your hearth. You have made a warm and rich home for yourself. Who would have ever thought a person could find a ranch here in Los Angeles."

        Johnny chuckled at the marvel he heard in his grandfather's voice. This visit had been eye-opening for the elderly man who had never before left the state he'd been born in, and had certainly never been in a city populated with more than twenty thousand people.

        "You will always be in Pacachu's heart. I hope you will one day return to his home."

        The paramedic knew this was his grandfather's way of reminding him a visit was long overdue. When Johnny made no response the old man didn't press him further, just like John knew he wouldn't.

        His father was a different story; however. Gray Wolf stepped out of the room so Chad and Johnny could say their good-byes in private. The last few weeks had brought them closer than they had been since Johnny was a boy. And yet, Chad could still feel the barrier his son would erect each time their conversations threatened to go beyond the surface things like how John was feeling, or small talk about ranches, horses, relatives, or John's work as a paramedic.

        Johnny had to resist the urge to turn away when his father laid a hand on
his forehead.        

        "You're feverish again."

        "I know."

        "Doctor Brackett won't let you out of here until your temperature returns to normal."

        "I know that, Dad. But there's not much I can do about it."

        John refused to meet his father's eyes. That was of little consequence though, because Chad voiced what Johnny would have seen there had he been willing to look.

        "You can't run forever, John."

        Johnny laughed. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not running much of anywhere these days."

        "Don't do that."

        "Do what?"

        "Hide your pain behind a smile and a smart aleck remark."

        Johnny's tone warned his father to back off. "Dad..."

        "I want you to come home."

        The apparent shift in subject caught Johnny off guard.

        "What?"

        "Home. To Montana. When Doctor Brackett releases you I want you to fly home with Reah."

        "I can't."

        "Why not?"

        "Because...because I'll have to go back to work."

        Chad raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I highly doubt you'll be returning to work the day after you get out of the hospital."

        "I have before."

        "If you say so. But this was a bit more than a sprained ankle or smoke inhalation."

        "Dad..." Johnny shifted on the bed, then turned his head. In doing so he broke eye contact with his father once again. "Please. I don't want to fight with you."

        "I don't want to fight with you either, son. But you have to face facts. Your health is not improving at the rate your doctor expected once you were moved from the Intensive Care Unit. Your temperature bounces up and down like a yo-yo, you're being plagued by nightmares..."

        John shot his father a dark scowl.

        "Don't look at me like that. And before you say anything else, I do have the right to speak to your doctor, and to expect honest answers from him when I can't get them from you."

        "I've never lied to you."

        "Then I think you and I have a very different definition of that word. When you tell me you slept 'fine', then later I discover you woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I'm forced to conclude you fibbed to me."

        "You know, Dad, I can see why you've gone so far in tribal politics these last few years. You missed your calling as governor of the whole damn state."

        "John Roderick--"

        Johnny's head came off his pillows.

        "Look, I'm not a kid anymore so don't stand there scolding me! I haven't lived under your roof since I graduated high school. I've made a life here for myself. My friends are here. My ranch is here. I work a job I love and don't have any intention of giving up."

        "I'm not asking you to give it up. Nor give up your friends or your home. I'm simply saying you've been through hell. Again. You can't lay there and tell me that this situation hasn't brought back memories of Kim and Jess..."

        "Don't say it," Johnny hissed, the eyes shining with fever only further accented his pale face. "Don't say anymore."

        Chad took a deep breath. He would not allow this to be like the last time he and his son parted ten years earlier. There would be no more shouts or angry words. Instead, he said softly, "Just because you refuse to speak of them doesn't mean they didn't exist."

        Without waiting for a response, Chad rested his callused palms on either side of his son's face. Johnny felt his father's lips touch his forehead.

        "I hope you'll change your mind and come for a visit when you're feeling up to it. But regardless of whether you do or not, I love you, John. And I'm proud of you for reasons too many to name."

        It seemed to Johnny as though his father had barely gotten those words out that night, and then he was gone. He couldn't recall his dad ever having told him he loved him before. Yes, the feeling had always been there. Readily evident in his dad's smile, or a stern word of correction, or in the hands that had worked so hard to provide for him throughout his childhood. But the words of love had never been spoken. And now, just when Johnny was realizing that and wanting to say them in return, his father was back in Montana.

        As he sat in his chair a half a smile touched the paramedic's lips.

        No doubt he planned it this way, hoping it will prompt me to go see him when I'm released from this place. And speaking of release, it's about time Brackett springs me from here.

        Those thoughts had barely run through Johnny's mind when the door opened. He looked up to see Kelly Brackett enter the room.

        "Morning, Johnny."

        "Hi, Doc."

        Kelly read the chart he was carrying as he talked. "How are you feeling?"

        "The same way I felt yesterday. And the day before that. Fine. And if I'm feeling fine, it would only make sense for you to free this room up for someone else who's not feeling so fine."

        "What's the matter there, Johnny?" Brackett smiled as he pulled the chair out across the table from the paramedic. "You've got a complaint about our accommodations?"

        "Let's put it this way. I like your accommodations a lot better when I'm making use of them as a paramedic. I'd prefer not to have to make use of them as a patient."

        "We'd prefer that, too. But if you become any more of a 'regular' Dixie's going to be setting a room aside for you on a permanent basis. You know, kind of your home away from home."

        Johnny wasn't in the mood to partake in the teasing. He latched onto the only word in Brackett's sentence that really mattered to him.

        "Speaking of home, I'd like to go back to mine."

        "You will."

        "When?"

        Kelly set John's chart aside. He sat back in the chair and met the paramedic's intense gaze. He held up his right hand, displaying fingers one by one as he counted off.

        "Number one. When you've gotten through three consecutive days without a fever. Your temperature's been normal for the past twenty-four hours so you're off to a good start."

        "My temperature's been normal for twenty-four hours before, only to have it go up again without warning."

        "That's true. But as you know, I changed your medication again on Monday. Maybe we've finally hit on the one that works."

        "God knows I hope so."

        "I hope so as well. Now; onto number two. That cast is set to come off on Friday. If Doctor Taylor says your wrist has healed in the way he expects it to, and you promise to follow to the letter whatever instructions he gives you in regards to what you can and can't do once you're released,...."

        "I will."

        Brackett tossed the paramedic a skeptical grin. "Yeah, for about two days you will until you decide you just have to climb on the back of one of your horses. Or repair a fence. Or put a new gate on your corral. Or put hay up in the mow. Or,...."

        "Doc, no. I'll do what Taylor says. Really, I will."

        "I've never known you to sit still for more than five minutes once you've
decided you're fully recovered from whatever injury or illness brought you to me, but if nothing else, this time I know I can count on Reah to make certain you do as your doctors order."

        Johnny rolled his eyes. Other than Dixie McCall, there was only one other woman who could make him toe the line when necessary, and that was his big sister. Although she'd told him she was remaining in Los Angeles for a few weeks to assist him in whatever ways necessary when he was released from the hospital, he'd known all along that another part of the reason she hadn't returned to Montana yet was so she could make certain he followed Kelly Brackett's instructions to the letter when he was first allowed to return home. He had a feeling a number of people had conspired to see this took place, including his sister, his father, Brackett, and Roy.

        All Johnny said on the subject was, "I don't like the thought of her staying at the ranch alone now that my dad and Paca...grandfather, have gone back to Montana. Not with that guy still on the loose."

        "Your dad didn't like the thought of it either. Roy and Joanne invited Reah to stay with them until your release, but she refused. Your sister strikes me as a very independent soul."

        "She is. Always has been. And stubborn as a hard headed mule, too."

        "She sounds like her brother in that respect."

        "Her brother's not stubborn. He simply lives by his convictions."

        "I argued enough with her brother seven years ago when he was in my paramedic training class. I'm not going to argue with him today."

        Johnny grinned. " 'Cause you know you'll lose?"

        "Because I know I won't get anywhere. Which, by the way, is quite different from losing."

        John chuckled as he thought back to the brash, bold young man he'd been. Not that he still wasn't brash and bold to a large degree, but as he approached his thirty second birthday time and maturity had tempered a portion of that aspect of his personality.

        "Now, onto the third and last condition of your release. I want you to schedule a few sessions with an acquaintance of mine."

        Johnny's brow furrowed. Though he did his best to act like he had no idea what the doctor was talking about, Kelly knew he understood perfectly.

        "Sessions? What do you mean? Sessions with who?"

        "Doctor Umbridge. Stanford Umbridge. He's..."

        "I know who he is. He's the hospital shrink."

        "Spoken with your usual tact. But yes, he is."

        Johnny's eyes darted to a corner of the room.

        "I don't need to see him."

        "Judging by the nightmares you've been having, and how little you've been eating, I tend to disagree with your opinion, Doctor Gage."

        John's eyes met Brackett's once more. The doctor could see the anger in the brown orbs.

        "Look, Kelly, it's up to me to decide who I see and who I don't."

        In all the years they'd known one another, John Gage had never called Kelly Brackett by his first name. That act alone spoke volumes to the doctor. He knew Johnny was furious with him while at the same time silently telling him he had no right to make a visit with Stanford Umbridge a condition of his release. But Brackett did have that right, and he planned to see it followed through.

        "Sorry, John, but that's the deal. You see Umbridge before you're released, or you remain a guest of Rampart General."

        "You can't keep me here. If I decide to walk out right this second there's nothing you can do about it."

        "No, there's not. Except declare you unfit for duty when the time comes you're ready to return to work."

        Brackett watched the muscle in Johnny's jaw twitch and saw his right hand clench so tight the knuckles turned stark white. John glared at the doctor a long minute, then transferred that glare to the window and the world beyond.

        Kelly allowed the silence to linger for five full minutes. When he thought he was no longer in danger of being decked, he said quietly, "Johnny, I'm sorry. I know you're angry with me, but I'm your doctor...and your friend. I can't do any less for you than what I know is best for your overall health. You've been through a lot. Both in recent weeks and in the...past. You need to let some of what you're feeling out. If you keep bottling it up eventually the cork is going to blow. You can't keep running..."

        Johnny swiveled to face the doctor.

        "Just because my father told you things that are none of your goddamn business doesn't mean you have the right to sit there and judge me or the choices I've made. I didn't run from anything. I've never run from anything in my life. I've faced what I've had to and then I've moved on. Period. End of story."

        "Moving on doesn't mean pretending something never happened."

        "I don't pretend! I know something happened! I know it better than you, better than my dad, better than my sister, better than the whole frickin' world! But get this straight, Doctor Brackett, it's my business and my business alone! Do you understand?"

        There was a long pause before Kelly nodded. He pushed his chair back and stood.

        "I understand. Nonetheless, you'll see Doctor Umbridge or you'll be finding
another line of work because I won't declare you fit for duty until Umbridge gives me the go ahead."

        The doctor turned for the door. It had no more than closed behind him when he heard the plastic water pitcher crash against it. The rookie cop who was standing guard raised an eyebrow.

        "Is Mr. Gage okay in there?"

        The young man wasn't sure what to make of Kelly Brackett's quiet reply.

        "No, he's not okay. But until he reaches that same conclusion there's not much more I can do."

        Brackett walked the length of the corridor and entered the elevator. The cop was left standing outside John Gage's room, listening as anything that wasn't bolted to the floor was thrown against the walls. The rookie sat back down in his chair with a long suffering sigh.

        Geez, I hope I never get another assignment like this.

___________________________________        

        
        One week later Kelly Brackett watched from his office window as Reah Gage and Dixie McCall wheeled Johnny to the Land Rover that was parked at the curb outside the Emergency Room entrance. Ever one of Rampart's most popular paramedics, Johnny's departure drew a crowd of well wishers. Kelly spotted Joe Early and Mike Morton amongst the nurses, physical therapists, and candy stripers. Brackett himself chose not to make an appearance. Johnny was barely speaking to him these days, so he thought it best if he stayed away from the gathering that brought the familiar lopsided grin of delight to the paramedic's face.

        Kelly turned at the knock on his door.

        "Yes?"

        The red head of Stanford Umbridge poked into the room. "Hey, Kel. Got a minute?"

        "Sure, Stan. Come on in."

        The lanky doctor entered and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Kelly who was still standing at the window. His eyes caught sight of the farewell party going on outside.

        "By looking at that smile I'd say this is one happy day for John Gage."

        Brackett nodded. "I'd say so."

        "Unlike your paramedic, you don't look too thrilled about it."

        "Oh, I'm happy for him. It's just that within two days he'll be doing everything he's been told not to. The words 'take it easy and rest' and 'John Gage' hardly go together in the same sentence despite my best efforts."

        "Well, if nothing else you got him to come see me."

        "Yes, if nothing else I did accomplish that. And without breaking doctor/patient confidentiality, can you tell me how your sessions went?"

        "They went well. As a matter of fact I have to say John has a good handle on this entire situation."

        Kelly couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

        "You would?"

        "Yes. His utmost concern was keeping Jennifer DeSoto safe. Because he was able to do that everything that has happened since, from his injuries to having his picture appear in the paper, is of little consequence to him. Of course, every one of us would react differently to what he went through. But if he's at peace with all that's happened because he was able to keep his best friend's daughter alive, then I'd say he'll have no future problems with any of this."

        "Did he talk to you about anything else?"

        "Anything else?"

        "Yes. About another...assault he experienced eleven years ago?"

        "No. Why? Was he supposed to?"

        Brackett folded his arms across his chest as his gaze returned to the parking lot. The crowd was gone now save for Dixie and Joe Early. They were waving goodbye as Reah pulled the Land Rover away from the curb.

        "I thought he understood that he was supposed to, but then this is John Gage we're talking about."

        "What do you mean? Did I miss something?"

        "No, Stan, you didn't miss a thing. Johnny did exactly what I told him he had to,...have some sessions with you. I didn't tell him in so many words what he had to discuss, but he knew damn good and well what I expected of him."

        "Kel, I'm only getting more confused here, rather than the other way around."

        Brackett turned away from the window and offered the man a small smile.

        "I'm sorry. It's...nothing. If Johnny chose not to share it with you then it's not my place to, either. As much as I'd like to kick him in the seat of his skinny ass right now, I know how I'd feel if our positions were reversed and someone broke my confidence regarding a very personal and private matter. I just thought..."

        "Thought what?"

        "I thought he trusted me enough to do what I asked of him."

        "Though I'm still in the dark as to what's going on, Kel, I can tell you this. Sometimes it's not a matter of trust. Sometimes it's a matter of having the emotional strength to open Pandora's Box and face whatever comes out of there. Maybe John just isn't ready to do that."

        "And what if he never is?"

        "I can't answer that question. Maybe no harm will come of it. But then again, maybe not. Regardless, you have my report. I can't give you one reason not to declare him fit for duty once he's recovered from his physical injuries."

        Brackett thanked the man for his time. He watched Stan exit the office, then moved to sit behind his desk. In a way Kelly Brackett was pleased by Stan's findings. The last thing Kelly wanted to do was keep Johnny from returning to work. He was one of the best paramedics in L.A. County, and he loved his job. Those two things alone made him a valuable asset to Rampart General. On the other hand, Kelly didn't like the thought of what Pandora's Box might contain should it ever open when Johnny didn't have the strength to slam shut.

        Before Brackett could mull the situation over any further he was paged. He rushed out of the office, all concerns for John Gage pushed to the back of his mind as Dixie directed him to Treatment Room 3.

        

Chapter 37

        
        Johnny had been home from the hospital for one month when he was given clearance by Doctor Brackett to return to work. The two men had maintained a cool, professional politeness with one another throughout John's physical that Tuesday morning in early June. Johnny didn't shoot the bull with Brackett after the physical ended like was normal for him, or go in search of Dixie or any other nurse. He simply accepted the papers the doctor handed him that he'd have to give to Hank Stanley the next day, said a quick, "Thanks," and walked out the door.

        Dixie looked up from her own paperwork as Kelly passed by the nurse's station.

        "Was that Johnny I just saw leaving?"

        "Yeah. He came in for his physical. He's going back to work tomorrow."

        "That's wonderful." Dixie smiled. "I'm so happy for him. And Roy,...well, Roy will be thrilled to have his partner back. I have a strong suspicion Craig Brice is trying the infamous DeSoto patience."

        "Brice can do that to a person," Kelly acknowledged, though Dixie could tell his thoughts weren't on his words.

        "Kel? What's wrong? Is everything okay with Johnny? You don't expect him to have any further problems, do you?"

        Dixie barely heard the man's mumbled, "None that he'll tell me about," before he turned and walked to his office.

        The nurse shrugged her shoulders.

        I wonder what he means by that?
        

___________________________________        

        
        It was eight o'clock that night when Johnny stepped out from underneath the spray of a hot shower. Though he was loath to admit it, the additional month of recuperation at home had done him good. Reah had been a big help to him the first week he was out of hospital, and while he greatly enjoyed her company, before the second week came to a close he sent her back to Montana. He knew the longer she remained with him the longer she went without a steady income. Aside from the fact that her career, her boyfriend, and her entire life was back in the state they'd been born in. But that's not where Johnny's life was, and though his father was still encouraging him to come for a visit each time they talked on the phone, the paramedic kept putting the man off. At least now, with his return to work, Johnny had a more viable excuse to give his dad.

        Just like Johnny knew it would be, his ranch proved to be the best physical therapy for him. Within two hours of Reah's departure John began doing all the things Brackett told him not to, like mending fences, riding horses, and putting up hay. But what Kelly Brackett and Reah Gage didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Nor hurt Johnny either. As a matter of fact, the hard labor only helped him return to full health both mentally and physically. The nightmares were a thing of the past, too. He'd told Brackett they would be once he was off medication and out of the hospital, but Kelly Brackett could be as stubborn as John Gage himself, and had simply given the paramedic a skeptical look at that pronouncement. Regardless, Johnny had been proven right. Or at least partially right. He couldn't deny he was still experiencing vivid dreams filled with memories he'd rather forget, but at least he no longer woke up screaming Kim's name.

        John finished toweling off, then pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and faded jeans before running a brush through his wet hair. He padded through his house barefoot and bare chested. The animals were taken care of for the night. All of them, including Joe, were locked in the barn. He stopped in the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk, then headed for the living room. He turned on the TV as he passed it, then settled in his recliner.

        The paramedic's mind wandered as he watched the Dodgers game. He knew his family and friends were concerned for his safety, and he had a strong suspicion that his father and Roy talked on the phone at least once a week. But there had been no sign of the man who had tried to kidnap Jennifer, and as far as Johnny knew no other little girls in the area had gone missing or had been found murdered. Mark Bellmen had pulled police protection off Johnny the day he was released from the hospital, which was fine with him. The last thing he wanted once he was free from the confines of Rampart was to be followed around by a cop.

        Johnny's only desire now was that law enforcement officials find the guy before another child died. Other than that, his remaining concern was for Chris and Jennifer. Roy kept assuring him that the kids had come out of the incident remarkably unscathed. Perhaps the sessions they'd had with Doctor St. Clair had helped. Or perhaps they were just young enough, and resilient enough, to bounce back from what could have been a situation of tragic proportions.

        John gave an involuntary shudder as he thought of what could have happened to Jennifer. He wished he'd put on a T-shirt before settling in his chair. He wrapped his arms around himself as mental images too gruesome to dwell on assaulted his brain. Now he knew why Joanne and Roy had asked him to baby-sit this past Saturday night. They'd wanted to prove to him that they still trusted him with their children, and more than likely knew he needed to discover for himself that he could spend time alone with the kids without anything bad happening.

        Johnny had to admit that little ploy on Joanne and Roy's part helped him a great deal. It touched him deeply that they would allow him to have the kids overnight on his ranch again. Johnny suspected the twenty-four hours that Chris and Jennifer were with him were as nerve wracking for Joanne and Roy as they had been for him. But John had done a good job of keeping his uneasiness from the children. They'd done all the things Chris and Jenny loved best, from feeding the animals, to eating at Pizza Hut, to riding the horses, though Johnny had been careful to guide the kids away from their usual trail up the mountain during this last activity. Instead they remained on his ranch, getting all the fun they needed on the acreage he owned. When Roy and Joanne arrived at noon on Sunday Johnny fired up the grill and cooked lunch. They stayed until four-thirty, the adults relaxing together on the deck while Chris and Jen roamed the ranch with Joe trailing behind them.

It was Roy's number Johnny dialed now as he picked up the phone from the end table. His partner answered it on the fifth ring. Johnny didn't have to say hello, let alone identify himself for Roy to know who he was speaking to.

        "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

        "No. I was just helping Chris build a birdhouse for his Scout project while Joanne oversees Jennifer's bath. What's up?"

        Johnny couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. "So, how sick are you of Brice?"

        "Pretty damn sick, that's how sick. Why?"

        "Well...unless you want to keep him for your partner, I'll be rejoining you in the squad tomorrow morning."

        "That's great, Johnny! Great!"

        Johnny smiled at the heart-felt enthusiasm that was voiced with considerable more emotion than Roy usually displayed.

        "So Brackett cleared you? You